


Take me Home

by MaeDay (Wolf_Shadow)



Series: BayoJeanne Week Tumblr 2017 [2]
Category: Bayonetta (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Shadow/pseuds/MaeDay
Summary: This is all very new to them, and they are bound to make mistakes along the way. The trouble lies in how they reconcile hundreds of years of differences.





	Take me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the BayoJeanne Week 2017 over on Tumblr. The Prompt for day 2 was Argument.  
> Like the rest of the prompts, I took this one and absolutely ran with it, I hope you enjoy.

    The classroom was quiet, only the sounds of scratching pencils or the slight creak of erasers could be heard, even for a testing session it was unusually quiet. For which Jeanne was thankful, her nerves were still simmering red hot and she wasn’t sure how well she could handle any clowning around by her students today.

    “U-um, Miss D’arc?”

    Her head snapped up from her study of the massive historical text in front of her (which she had filled with innumerable highlights and red marks, each of them being an incorrect account of events), and her steel gaze landed on that of a petite student who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than where she was.

     “What is it, Penny?” Jeanne kept her tone cool, managing to bring it up a few degrees from cold, which was already higher than the frigid tone she’d begun the morning class with. Behind Penny, who was squirming in discomfort, Jeanne could see the rest of the class half pause and surreptitiously watch their exchange.

     “I- I’m done with my test,” she held out the paperwork as if she was proffering food to a venomous snake (somewhat ironic given that Cereza was the one to turn into a cobra), “and well, I was wondering if I could leave class for study hall now?” her voice rose a half octave for every syllable she spoke, but she managed to maintain eye contact.

     Jeanne took in a breath as she straightened her shoulders, reigning in her temper with all her will. None of her students deserved it. She gently reached forward and took the paper. “Of course Penny, thank you for asking.” Setting the paper down on the desk she looked around Penny and raised her voice to address the whole class. “Whenever any of you are finished with your tests, you may hand them into me and leave the classroom, remember to follow all campus rules and do not disturb the other classes.”

     There was a general shuffle of paper, but only two other students rose their seats. Jeanne wasn’t surprised, her students may have been too scared to try to leave the class before the time was up given that she hadn’t specified that they could (even if she had set that precedent again and again), but her tests were known for being challenging and many of them would need nearly the full forty-five minutes to complete it.

     Wordlessly, the second two handed in their work and made a swift exit for the door. Penny was still hovering nervously in front of her desk. Jeanne raised her brows slightly.

     “Was there something else you needed?” She asked.

     Penny flinched. “Well, no I just… I hope you have a better day.” and then with a faint blush across her cheeks, she turned and spirited towards the door.

    Jeanne started after her for a long moment after the door clicked shut, then she closed her eyes, sighed, and turned back to the book.

    The dry scratching of pencils continued, Jeanne turned the page and immediately outlined a paragraph in red, doing her best to avoid pressing too hard and ripping the page.

    Another ten minutes later and most of her students had finished and left, the last stragglers rushing to finish mere seconds before the bell. As the school erupted into the buzzing chaos that was period shift, she meticulously stacked and stored the papers in a folder labeled ‘Period 1’ then set it aside and pulled out another folder, this one labeled ‘Period 2’.

    The next class session filled in, already somewhat more subdued than normal, even for a quiz day, and they were quick to quiet when she began her terse explanation of the test, her expectations, and the rules of the classroom. This time she remembered to tell them that they could leave when they finished.

    With each new period the going students looked that much more nervous, and the coming students entered her class with more and more anxiety on their faces. She found this to be even further annoying, it wasn’t as if she was shouting at the class or berating them for anything (although a few of the tests she was handed back could have used a bit of disciplining), she was just telling them the standard rules and them handing out the test, then returning to her desk to continue her work. Honestly, she was grateful it was a test day, she wasn’t sure how well she could lecture today with her temper simmering so hot just under the surface.

    Considering her temper was enough to remind her exactly why she was in a foul mood in the first place, and it was also enough to let her slip her control and press just a bit too hard against the page. Her pen broke with a very audible SNAP and without looking up she could see most of her class jump and look at her worriedly. With calm intent, she set the broken pen aside and picked another one out from her desk drawer, pressing it back on the page next to the centimeter deep hole in the book.

    Literal hours later and she was still just as angry at Cereza as when she had left. How DARE she accuse her of not caring, when that was all Jeanne could ever do. Care and care and worry and try to make everything better, with every breath she took for over five hundred years.

    How could she say something like that? How could she even think something like that.

    The bell rung and her students filled out, this period somewhat more chatty than the last, though she guessed that was because it was now lunch hour and probably was unrelated to her in anyway. This Fourth Period class had their tests collected and stored in their own folder as well, the neat stack of tests that needed grading made her sneer slightly.

    ‘Uncaring and sloppy, my ass.’ she thought to herself, the barest hints of dark magic crackingly along her fingertips in anger. She let out a sharp breath and swiftly stood up from her chair, shedding her tight red jacket and dropping it on the back of her chair, leaving her standing in her slim black slacks and button up white shirt. The very model of a tidy and well pressed individual. ‘Accusing me of such things while she flounces about the city doing whatever she pleases.’

    There was a knock at her door, only just louder than the rumble of teenage feet heading for the cafeteria. She curtained her temper as quickly as she was able. “Yes?” she called across the space.

    Miss Ross, the english teacher from two classrooms down as well as the school busybody, poked her head in, her ringlet curls popping out from the edges of the door and the frame as she moved. “Oh good, Miss d’Arc, you are in!”

    Jeanne folded her arms, and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yes, in my classroom, during lunch hour, how unlikely.”

  Seemingly undeterred by her tone or posture, Miss Ross entered the room fully and closed the door behind her. Shorter than Jeanne by a good foot and a half, she was a slightly rounded woman who had once laughingly said that she and Jeanne were probably about the same age. Jeanne had resisted the slight urge to make a joke about her literal immortal lifespan and instead had quipped that anywhere between 27 and 33 was possibly her real legal age. Since then she had forever been excluded from coy age jokes the other female instructors liked to throw around to make themselves feel younger next to their student body, which was more than fine with her.

    “I’m just checking in on things,” Miss Ross was saying, her smile wide and sunny, “I overheard from some of my students that your classroom was a bit, um… more tense than normal.”

    The implication that her classroom was already tense by the norm was not altogether inaccurate, but the overlaying judgement therein was supremely irritating.

    “So you eavesdropped on your own students and decided to look in on how I was handling my classroom?” this time she didn’t bother to keep her disdain from her tone.

    “Oh! No of course not!” the backpedaling in that tone could have won a reverse cycling race, “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright! I know how exhausting it can be, working with teenagers all day all week-”  
    “By that you mean doing my job.”

    Miss Ross paused and looked like she was seriously reconsidering her choice to stick her nose in this topic. “Well… yes. I didn’t mean to imply that you were incapable…” she cleared her throat, “I am saying this all wrong, I just meant I wanted to check in and make sure you were doing alright.”

    Jeanne decided to have a bit of mercy on the women, even if she was insufferably engaged in everyone’s personal business. “Thank you for your concern, but everything is fine here, it is just another testing day like any other. I’m sure some of my students are reflecting that in their opinions of me today. Now, if you don’t mind I was just about to take my lunch and start grading the tests in question.”

    “Right, of course, I’m glad to hear things are fine here. You know you can always come to me or the other instructors if you have problems, right?” Miss Ross had already taken one step backwards towards the door, but didn’t seem quite ready to let the topic go.

    Breaking eye contact long enough to sit back down in her chair and place her wholly unneeded reading glasses on her nose, Jeanne reached down for her lunch bag and placed it on the table. “If I encounter any issues I will deal with them accordingly. Have a nice day, Miss Ross.”

    “Ah, you too, Miss d’Arc.”

    Jeanne didn’t look back up as the door opened and closed, she was too busy picking at the corners of her lunch container. A lunch that Cereza had made for her that morning while she was still in bed. It was harder to maintain her anger while eating the food that had been so lovingly prepared for her, but it also brought up memories of the conversation they had after Cereza had handed it over.

\-----

    “...and here is a lunch for you, I tried something a bit different with the pasta salad, I hope you enjoy it.”  
    Jeanne distractedly took the container and put it in her bag, her eyes skill scanning the counter for her keys. “Where did I put them?” she muttered to herself.

    “Did you check your summon void already?” Cereza asked, her head titled to the side slightly.

    “Yes, yes of course,” Jeanne waved a hand at her, “first place I looked.”

    “How about the pockets of the pants you wore yesterday?”

    Jeanne gave her a flat look. “I never store my keys in my pocket, Cereza. There are either in my summon void or on the counter, but I don’t see. Them. anywhere!” she shuffled around a few containers of suckers in the hopes they had somehow been swept behind them. No luck.

    Cereza was quiet a moment. “I don’t remember seeing them on the counter last night, Jeanne. Why don’t you just use your magic to start your bike, it works just as well?”

    “Yes, if I want to eventually blow up my engine it does.” Jeanne put the containers back and ducked down to look under the counter for a second time. “Magic is extremely hard on combustible engines after a while, I don’t like to use it, I’ve already mangled more than my share of very nice bikes that way.”

    “It can’t hurt it to do it every once in awhile, and if it means you can leave on time you’ll be much less stressed though the day.” Cereza rested her elbows on the countertop and settled her chin in her upturned palms.

    Jeanne had straightened and her frown deepened. “What? Are you trying to shoo me out the door?”

    Neither one of them moved for a long moment, save for Cereza’s eyes widening just a fraction. Then she had slowly stood back up, gaze narrowing.

    “No.” She clipped back. “I’m trying to help you.”

    “You could help me,” Jeanne said, setting her bag by the door and moving into the room to look over the coffee table in the living room, the accent table by the reclining chair, “by not moving my things so often. Are you sure you didn’t set my keys somewhere?”

    She had ducked down to check under the table and it wasn’t until she stood back up, frustrating growing, that she had seen Cereza’s tight expression.

    “I wouldn’t move your things so often if you would pick them up once in a while,” her long black hair shimmered down her back as she shook her head, “instead of leaving things strewn about the apartment in one huge sloppy mess!”

    “I don’t leave things ‘strewn about’!” Jeanne snapped, “I set my things in places where I can find them again!”

    Cereza had rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Oh right, like how you ‘set’ your clothes under the barstools when you get home from work? Or how you yank all the pillows and blankets to the floor to sleep on when you blunder in late from some party?”

    “I set my clothes there so I remember to take them down to wash later! And I sleep on the floor in here to keep from waking you up! I thought you would appreciate that, but if you’d rather, I’m sure I would sleep much better if I stumble into bed and just fall into it!”

    “It’s not about where you sleep!” Cereza took a step forward and gestured at the living room, “It's about the fact that you don’t pick anything up around here unless it’s directly in your way! And even then you just shuffle it off to the side!”

    “Well you keep everything so meticulously picked over I’m hardly sure if I live here or not! Perhaps you’d rather I didn’t!”

    Cereza had frozen, face stunned and hurt visible in her eyes, but before Jeanne could give voice to the sudden guilt in her chest, Cereza stalked towards the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

    Jeanne had sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Just as she had been about to turn back to the counter to check a fourth time, the bedroom door slammed back open and something small and shiny hurtled towards her face. Her hand had flicked up and caught it in an instant, the sharp teeth of her motorcycle keys biting her palm. “Where-”

    “In you pants pocket on the floor.” Cereza said, every syllable hung with pointy icicles, “and frankly, between the two of us, Jeanne, you’re the one who seems uncaring of your living space. Or did you just get too used to being the Umbran Princess all your life and never learned how to clean up after yourself?”

    They glared at one another, then Cereza huffed and turned back towards the bedroom.

    “Have a good day at work, Jeanne.”

    The second slamming of the door was as loud as the first. Jeanne was sure to echo it as she departed out the front door, her work bag and keys in hand.

    A neighbor standing in the hall had jumped and stared at her like a deer in the middle of the freeway, but she’d barely spared them a heated glare before setting off in a swirl of angry energy.

\-----

    The pasta was incredibly good, Jeanne was forced to admit, it was a blend of leftovers from dinner a night ago and perfectly well seasoned chicken bites. Unfortunately, the flavor left her feeling that much worse about their argument this morning.  
     They were both at fault, she could see that now, but if she was being totally honest, she had been the one to start the whole issue when Cereza was only trying to help.

    She let out a deep sigh and leaned back in her chair, running her hands roughly through her short hair. How had it dissolved so quickly?

    True, they had only been living together for a year or so, Cereza immediately inviting her in to live at her quite nice apartment the moment they had departed the ruins of Vigrid together. While the situation was not one either of them were exactly used to. Jeanne would have hoped they could handle such inevitable confrontations with a bit more tact and grace. She was over five hundred years old after all, and Cereza was at least, what? Fourty? If you took into account all the years she had been awake and alive….

    That was not a thought she wanted to pursue any further for the moment. Technically speaking Cereza had been born a month before her, but then technically, she’d spent the largest portion of her ‘life’ asleep at the bottom of a lake, which meant that Jeanne was far the elder in their relationship.

    Though apparently not the more mature of the two of them.

    She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Their age had nothing to do with this, a growing number of irritations with each other and an inability to discuss them had led to this situation. Was that really surprising? Neither of them had exactly ‘lived’ with anyone else in any portion of their lives. No matter how much they loved one another, no matter how long that feeling had lived on between them, they were still individuals trying to learn how to live their lives together, and that was different than anything they had ever dealt with before.

    Either way she knew that if she wanted to continue their relationship with any kind of sensitivity, she was going to have to apologize, probably several times over. She might even be lucky enough to receive an apology in return. It wasn’t as if she intended to be ‘sloppy’, and it also wasn’t as if she handle handled her own affairs like an independent adult for literal centuries. She just… handled it differently than Cereza, and that was a impasse the two of them were going to have to work out, together.

    Her class tests lay forgotten on the desk next to her, and she reluctantly decided she would have to postpone grading them properly for an extra day, tonight was going to be for the two of them, and probably for a rather long and emotional conversation.

    Not her favorite kind in the least.

    But, she thought as the bell rung and students began their slow file back into classrooms, it was necessary to keep living the kind of life she had always secretly wished for all those years.  
    Just her and Cereza, together, nothing keeping them apart.  
    To hold onto that kind of life was worth any price to her.

    That mindset got her through the rest of the day with a much better outlook, and while her students remained on their best behavior for the remainder of the periods (school gossip spread fast ), she had no further incidents with other teachers.

    She managed to pack up all the papers, closed down and lock up her classroom and be out the school doors in record time, though she she restrained herself from speeding too quickly away on her motorcycle or she’d get yet another stern word about setting a good driving example from any number of nosy parents. She was in and out of the nearby grocery store in a few moments, feeling a bit silly for her cliche purchases but knowing that the gesture would at least be appreciated.

    It wasn’t until she was turning her keys in the lock to their apartment that she realized that she had no idea what she was going to say exactly. A simple, ‘I’m sorry’ was a good start, but could she fully say why she was sorry for? Or rather, which of the several things she was most sorry for.

    She took in a long breath and leaned her whole body forward until her forehead was pressed into the door, hands still holding the half turned keys. Then with a muster of courage and determination, she opened the door and strode into her home.

    Cereza was nowhere in sight, the apartment was quiet.

    Jeanne frowned slightly, glancing around the open space of the living room, the kitchen, the empty table by the window. Cereza was normally back from her odd errands by now, often halfway through making them some dinner. It wasn’t completely unusual for her to still be out at this hour, but given how they parted in the morning… Jeanne felt somewhat sick.

    She stripped her red overshirt off and automatically went to drop it under the bar-stool near the door- then neatly snatched it back out of the air when she remembered one of the complaints Cereza had this morning. Only…

    She had to do a double-take. There in the empty space against the door where she normally piled her to-be-washed overshirts, was a small grey hamper. A nondescript square thing that was tucked neatly up against the wall and under the unused barstool, perfectly fitted so as not to stick out into the doorway. Jeanne might have thought it for a waste-bin or a grocery bag if not for the shirt that she had dropped in the space last night sitting in the bottom of it.

    Well, that was certainly new.

    With some hesitation, she half folded her current shirt and set it down in the hamper. When she stood back up, her eyes landed on her bike keys sitting where she had thoughtlessly tossed them on the counter, and again had to blink in surprise at another new addition to the space.

    An ornamental wireframe keyholder stood just to one side of the candy bowls. A pretty black thing shaped like the silhouette of a cat, with many decorative spirals for keyrings to hang. Jeanne could tell it was a keyholder and not just decoration by virtue of their spare apartment key set hanging from one of the little swirls. With further wonder and confusion, Jeanne placed her own keyring on a rung just below the others, somewhat enamored by the elegance of the whole design.

    Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn’t somehow just seeing things, she then glanced back around the apartment, noticing other little odds and ends that hadn’t been there that morning. A few of her books were sitting neatly on the accent table, where she liked to leave them so she could grab them up whenever the mood struck her. A painting of Luna, a very old thing she’d commissioned from an artist over a hundred years ago, was hung lovingly on the wall where it was gently lit up by the lamp but never in danger from sunlight. It had been in one of a few boxes she had dragged out of storage when she’d returned to America, but she’d never had a chance to really sort through any of it, let alone put anything out.

    Speaking of things she’d kept in boxes, she spotted tea set that she had bought in China over three hundred years ago now sitting proudly in the display case near the table, nestled in among Cereza various little treasures and wine glasses.  
    Just a few things here and there, and suddenly Jeanne felt something that she had not felt in a very, very long time.

She felt home.

    The bedroom door opened, Cereza stepping out with an uncharacteristically sky look in her eyes, though her posture was ever of swagger.

    Their eyes met and there was a long second of silence.

    “Evening Jeanne,” Cereza was the first to break the moment, her tone calm and neutral, “I hope you had a good day at work.” she grimaced immediately after saying this and rubbed a hand along the back of her neck. “Fuck.” she mumbled, seemingly to herself, before taking a few steps forward and gesturing to the room in general. “Look I-” she stopped again, expression twisting further into discomfort. “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of shifting a few things around, and I came across a few of your wonderful treasures, and I thought that it might be nice to have them around the room, instead of sitting in the dark gathering dust.” there was a forced confidence in this sentence that she didn’t seem able to completely act out.  
    Jeanne’s throat was stuck, a welling of emotions bottling up and preventing her from saying anything. She tried desperately to think of someway to adequately express the tumult in her chest.

    Cereza seemed to take this as a bad sign, for she sighed and looked away. “Jeanne I.... I’m not good at this kind of thing. Never really had a need to be able to discuss feelings and problems, not ones that I couldn’t just shoot away at any rate,” she folded her arms and tugged on the edges of her shirt sleeve, rumpling the material around her shoulders, “the ‘messes’ the piles and the haphazard things, they do bother me, and they always have, and I’m finally beginning to remember it's because of things in my past, things that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me,” she looked back up at Jeanne and the raw ache that was exposed in her eyes yanked at Jeanne’s heart, “I didn’t realize that my tidying up was making you feel… unwelcome, that wasn’t my intention in the least, and I… I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

    Jeanne swallowed hard and managed to clear her throat enough to speak. “Is that why you put some of my things out?”

    Cereza almost flinched. “I want you to feel like you belong here, that I want you here. This is your home too, if you want it, and you have every right to this space just as I do. Those,” she gestured to the counter, encompassing the hamper and the keyring, “are compromises, I’m told that they are the best way for couples to handle each other's quirks.” the quick half smile, though hesitant, was a grad effort to lift the mood with a light joke.

    Jeanne’s heart felt full to bursting and she was struck silent again, her eyes stuck on Cereza because she was half afraid that none of this was real. It was all too good, too loving, too perfect.

     “If you don’t like it I can-”

    Jeanne strode across the room and threw her arms around Cereza, burning her face against her neck and breathing in the scent of her. “I love you.” she mumbled with a voice laden with unshed tears, “I am so, so sorry, and I love you Cereza.”

    Cereza returned the hug with tentative softness, nuzzling her head against Jeanne’s shoulder. Jeanne felt her shudder as she let out a sigh. “I love you too Jeanne, even if I’m not always that good at showing it.”

    Pulling back just enough that she could look Cereza in the eye, Jeanne blinked back tears and shook her head. “No- I mean,” she sighed and rubbed her fingers along the back of Cereza’s neck, “You’re wonderful at showing your love. All the lovely meals, all the thoughtful little things you do for me,” Cereza face pinched slightly, a shine of water over her beautiful eyes “I see them all, and they mean the world to me.” Jeanne leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “You mean the world to me, Cereza, and I sometimes cannot believe that you’re back, that I’m back, and we’re here together.” Jeanne swallowed hard, “I never thought this could be our reality, and I don’t ever want to lose it.” She glanced away from Cereza’s eyes, feeling black guilt bubble in her stomach. “The things I said this morning, I didn’t mean-”

    A soft finger was gently placed over her lips, and when she looked back up the hand came around to cup her cheek.  
    “I forgive you.” Cereza said with quiet earnest, her thumb stroking along Jeanne’s cheekbone. “Will you forgive me?”  
Instead of answering with words, Jeanne closed her eyes and leaned forward to press a kiss against Cereza’s inviting lips. Cereza responded in kind, her arms tightened around Jeanne’s back, kissing back with the tender strength.

    They pulled apart slowly, leaning back in for two, then three smaller kisses.

    “Let’s buy a house.” Jeanne broke the afterglow spell.

    Cereza started, pulling her head back and furrowing her brows in confusing, then let out a short laugh. “What? How did we go from forgiving each other to that? And after all I just did to make you feel at home?”

    Jeanne chuckled and lightly tugged Cereza closer. “Well, this place is lovely, really, and I’m touched beyond words by what you’ve done.” she looked lovingly at her things resting among Cereza’s so casually, “but you’ve lived here by yourself for what? Twenty years?”

    “Ten,” Cereza corrected with a half shrug, “the lack of aging starts to get suspicious to your neighbors after about that time.”

    “Well, there is that reason then. But I was thinking, why don’t we find a place together? Something a bit outside the city, maybe with some trees and open spaces to run, something hidden from prying eyes where we can fully be ourselves.”

    The sudden thoughtful look on Cereza’s face encouraged her on.

    “We can start again, build something for just the two of us, make a home that we fully share from the first moment, blend our things and our ‘quirks’ as we go.” She smiled brightly at the thought.”

    “Some place we can indulge in all the loud sex we want a three in the morning?” Cereza smirked.

    Jeanne barked out a surprised laugh, “Yes that too, it would certainly be enjoyable to have that option, don’t you think?”

    “Hm,” Cereza pursed her lips and looked around the room, “Well that certainly sound rather lovely to me, this place is starting to get a bit cramped anymore.”

    “I’m sure the piles of pillows on the floor on the weekends doesn’t help.” Jeanne teased back.

    Cereza rolled her eyes and curved her spine backward, leaning her weight heavily on Jeanne, the motion also had the very lovely effect of pressing their hips tightly together. “For the record, Miss d’Arc, I would much prefer you in my bed at any given time, rather than on the floor.”

    “Noted. So what do you think?” Jeanne held the serious question in her teasing tone, heart stuttering as she waited for a solid answer.

    “A home, a house? For the two of us?” Cereza’s gazed unfocus for a split second, then snapped back to Jeanne, her face blooming in a bright smile. “Yes. Yes, let’s do that, let’s build something together. You and I, the way we dreamed when we were young.”

    Jeanne couldn’t help herself, couldn’t keep the mischievous impulse at bay. She lowered one arm to Cereza’s waist, the other slung closer around her shoulders, then swiftly shuffled forward and swept Cereza into a low and elegant dip, kissing her fully as they went down.

    Cereza laughed and swatted her shoulder when they broke apart, Jeanne still holding her a few feet off the ground, long waves of hair spilling down to the carpet.

    “Well then my dear Umbran sister, we have a plan.”

    “We certainly do,” Cereza giggled, “but for the moment, it seems like you have quite another plan in mind.”

    “Oh,” Jeanne leaned down close again, her breath tickling along Cereza’s lips, “I most certainly do.”

    This kiss was a great deal more passionate than the previous ones, and it lead to many more interesting places.  
This is where they belonged. Together, they were home.


End file.
